34 Ways To Happiness

Two hours to my birthday, and here I am, on my laptop, waiting for it while doing what I love most. Writing.

It may be the clock ticking away to this another year of getting wiser that lately I have been doing some soul searching. I am done with the mid-life crisis. Now I am in this stage where point A and point B are visibly staring at me. The drawing of the line to connect them is my next target. The line of courage is my next step.

What are my accomplishments from the past year? What made me happy? Let me count my blessings. :)

1. I went home for Christmas last year to celebrate it with my family.
2. A few days before Christmas, Chloe, our dog, was born. I was there when she was still a teeny weeny pup.
3. My friend and I went to a quiet and peaceful town in Malaysia. We took the train to get there from Singapore. It was my first time to take an inter-country train and I loved the journey.
4. In February, a day after Valentine's Day, Me Day was born. I have a bracelet that reminds of this monumental day, which I wear every day since then.
5. In March, a friend and I visited the Science Centre to take a look at Jupiter through a very powerful telescope. She's a beauty.
6. When the great leader of Singapore died, a colleague and I paid our last respect by going to his funeral. We braved through flood of people who came for the same intention, and we managed to get in an hour later.
7. My family transferred to another rented house because the previous one was already bought and would be inhabited by the new owners. I am happy that we did because the new place we are now living in is a much safer place. Our previous location was very chaotic and confined.
8. I went home in April to meet my friend and her husband who are now living in the US. We had a mini-reunion with the rest of the girls.
9. My aunt who has been living in the Middle East came home at the same time that I was in the Philippines. We finally met again after so many years.
10. I celebrated my nephew's 2nd birthday in June, by going home again.
11. I volunteered to help out in a huge event for the elderly of Singapore. I was assigned to man the bathroom and it was an eye-opener for me.
12. I finally finished the collage project I had been procrastinating. It is now hanging inside my room.
13. I did another collage which I brought home to the Philippines, to be hung in our new house.
14. Our new house in Cavite is renovated.
15. We went island hopping in August, in Singapore!
16. I went home in September to celebrate my mom's 61st birthday.
17. I celebrated my brother's 30th birthday together with my family during that three weeks I was home in September. His birthday came a week later after my mom's.
18. Again, during that vacation in September, my mom and I went to the province to visit my only living grandmother, from my father's side, in Aklan. We stayed there for four days.
19. Two days within that four-day vacation at my grandmother's house, my mom and I went to Boracay, a world-class beach that is only an hour away from my grandmother's house.
20. Also in Aklan, my cousin drove us to his place of work, which is on top of the mountains. He is an engineer at the windmills.
21. After which, we went to one location near my grandmother's house to take a dip in the waters flowing from the mountains. A cold spring. It was divided into man-made pools, from which the excess water would run to the river. It was freezing cold.
22. In that provincial house, we bathed the pigs, and fed the chicken. We gathered vegetables from the garden outside, and bought sea shells right after they were picked from the low tide-exposed sea bed. 
23. Also in September, I learned driving and got my driver's license!
24. I drove my brother's car. Although it was a quick one and served as a refresher of my course, it felt empowering to be behind the wheels.
25. I sent my cousin, who is taking care of my baby nephew, to her own hometown for her one-week vacation. During this time, I became my nephew's babysitter and it was the best bonding moments ever. We played, we jumped, we watched movies. I learned how to change diapers, wash him or give him baths. How I miss this little guy.
26. I visited museums, took long walks in the city, read books at coffee shops, watched movies, all by myself, in celebration of Me Day.
27. I spent a day in the beach here in Singapore with a friend, doing nothing but talk and people-watch.
28. I have detached from Facebook. It is deleted from my phone and I do not access it on a daily basis anymore, and I did not feel any withdrawal symptoms at all. It has been more than two months and I feel no attachments to it whatsoever.
29. I have submitted my application to WYD Krakow, to apply for a volunteer job in WYD for the second time.
30. I have renewed my communication with the guy I met in WYD Brazil. We talk more frequently than before. It was a curious question that started it all. We used to talk on Facebook, but ever since my hibernation, we now converse via whatsapp.
31. I wake up thirty minutes earlier to do my daily prayer. A conversation with God as a starter pumps up my day.
32. I bought two plant pots. One of them is dead, but the other, surviving! It has been months and it is still there outside my house, all perked up and ready to face each blissful day.
33. I met my friend when she sojourned in Singapore on her way home from her Europe trip. We spent the day talking and talking, as I sent her off to the airport.
34. I met two guys this year, one of them very persistent. It was just not right to pursue our communication, but nevertheless, I have not lost my charm. :p
35. I am religiously cooking my own food this year, and this has made me more health-conscious and thrifty.
36. My friend and colleague has been eating lunch with me at work every day, and she has always been sharing with me whatever food she cooked for that day. ALWAYS.
37. Lately, another friend and I have been spending time together more frequently than ever. I did not know we would jive; we seemed to be two different individuals. But we did. I am glad we did.
38. My married friends and I have been meeting up as much as we can, and although I am the odd one out every time, I feel very comfortable with them than ever.
39. Another friend and I have been meeting up monthly. We used to be part of the same youth community and organization in the church, but ever since she left the organization and I the youth community, our closeness had somehow came to a pause. As friendships get put out with the absence of communication, we value ours so much that we wanted to keep it going, regardless of diverse priorities. Every month, we meet over dinner or lunch to catch up. I love it.
40. A cousin who got married last year now has a bouncing baby boy!
41. The baby turned out to be healthy. They were warned by the doctor that it might not be, because of some complications. But he turned out to be just fine. :)
42. I have been awarded an excellence in customer service this year. This is because of my numerous compliments with exemplary ones, thanks to my boss and her encouragements.
43. I received a grade of 2 in my end-year performance. The highest was 1 and my previous years had been 4 and 3 respectively. :)
44. It is part of my job to cross-sell some products, apart from delivering exceptional service to the customers. In the past, I have not been meeting my monthly quotas. However, this year, although it may not have been either, generally speaking, I brought the numbers exceedingly far from how I fared last year comparatively. Some of the sales were God-given, a few of them were of my own doing. I have never felt comfortable with selling, but I have tried really hard this year. I am so proud of the numbers I myself proactively offered.
45. I went to a dinner with a group of strangers, knowing only one friend in that circle. As we took our seats in the dining table, this one and only friend I knew positioned herself a few meters away from me. Instead of panicking and pondering ways to make my escape, I breathed deeply, embraced the opportunity presented before me, and got out of my comfort zone and actually talked to these people. It was a learning point for me. I have always been willing to get to know others, in the content that the majority of that particular setting is people I know. It was a first time for me to be surrounded by people I was not familiar with. I threw myself out there and I am so proud of that. :)
46. I stopped talking to one friend after a misunderstanding. It took me a year to finally start the friendship again. It is a journey towards humility, and learning what is more valuable in life. This experience taught me to let go of small scars, and to look at the bigger picture. This one rings true - that love, or friendship for that matter, is lovelier the second time around.
47. I have memorised thirteen lines out of 31 of a Polish poem! I am learning this extremely-difficult-because-it's-in-no-way-similar-to-mine language all by myself.

To celebrate my coming 34th year of existence, I planned to list down 34 things that made me happy and proud during my 33rd. And now, at the stroke of midnight (at 24 hours later and I am still adding blessings to my list), I ended at 47. Blessings are invisible when we do not take note of them. And when we do, they multiply. Somehow. Like the three loaves of bread and two fish that fed thousands of people. :)

Alone

I first heard this line as I was watching the movie, 'One Day', some years ago, a film starred by Anne Hathaway and Jim Sturgess. I vaguely remember the scene, but the character played by Anne blurted out a line that summed up my present existence. 'I'm not lonely. I'm alone.'

I am at this age where more than half of my friends are either married, married with kid(s), or are attached long-term and are heading to that path of foreverhood.  I go to dinners and lunches with couples happily attached, and I am the odd one out. My mom has transformed into a constant reminder of my clock ticking away, her voice does not conceal the concern for her one and only daughter. Who am I to blame her, anyway? My younger brother is married, and with a kid.

It is hypocrisy to say that I do not long for couplehood. There are Saturday nights when I am dreaming of going out hand-in-hand with someone, only to spend those evenings watching movies that promise fairytale endings. This romantic comedies cliched so much love life that it is aching not to be attached.

Love does not fall from the sky. Love is a proactivity, so they say. So I went out. I dressed up, put my lipstick on, and opened my doors to the world outside. I went out with friends, most of the time. With friends of friends, sometimes.  Multiple dinners and hard-rocked clubs and bars I have graced upon, to discover and be merry and inhaled air that may not be good for my lungs. The adult life seemed superficial, I realised. I rocked my head and enjoyed the music that barely got to the depth of my heart. It was played many a time that I have memorised the lyrics but the notes were out of tune with my desires. I went home in the wee hours of the night flushed and tired.

Gurus and psychologists online sing the same song: Love must come from within. First and foremost, the self must be loved. All else will follow. The radiating beauty that is manifested from the love of self somehow attracts the outsiders, piquing their curiosity. Selfishness has its positive side, as I understood it. The love of self that means appreciating oneself and accepting the strengths and weaknesses and loving it anyway is the humble version of love of self. We will be loved if we love ourselves first.

To love oneself is to discover one's true self. I was rethinking this and decided to walk the Sunday afternoon away, in the process of discovering myself, to be able to discover others. I walked in the city, took paths I would never have had the luxury to do so if I was not alone, and rediscovered the world from a different point of view. A day after the heart's day, my new self was born. Me Day was born.

The trips to the theaters alone became frequent. Regardless of the time of day. This would have been inconceivable last year, but it is a reality this year. A few weeks back, a colleague asked me how I spent my weekend. I answered by saying I went out and wandered the city streets alone. She gave me her most sincere look, and in the hushed tone so full of concern she said, "That's sad."

I did not feel sad though. That weekend, I went to a run-down movie theater full of bugs that showed an indie canadian film in French. I laughed, I cried, I itched my way through, but I never felt sad. In fact, I felt empowered. After reading the reviews about this cinema, I felt intimidated. It seemed like an artist's hang out place, so I imagined it overflowing with exuberant ambience and expressive substance from overly confident individuals. It was, in a way. I was so glad I fought the ego that almost stopped me from trying it. I realised that my imagination is greater than what is. Most importantly, intimidation is a battle that only happens within.

Walk, and you shall discover.

Sometimes there is loneliness in being alone, I agree. Every time one is alone there will always be loneliness, this I do not. There is freedom. There is self-discovery, and there is wisdom. There is openness to the world; there is letting go of inhibitions. The smallest steps taking a left turn can change a story altogether, and I do not hesitate to take it anymore. These are the antidotes for loneliness. My friend and I were in a beach last Friday, and we got lost. But I am proud of myself that I did not panic. I took whatever turns we could find, reliving my Sunday walks of no expectations. We found the way after a while, and although I have forgotten how we got there in the first place, I could vividly recall the feeling of courage and curiosity to what lies ahead. My heart, no longer caged in the between my chest, is now at my feet.

The Enchanted

This book The Enchanted by Rene Denfeld must be read twice: the first, to pace with it; the second, to savor it.

At the risk of sounding cliché, do not judge the book by its cover. The bars which cage the golden horses on the cover should be a dead give away. The author uses the psychological approach to get to know the darkest and the deepest of the misunderstood. The protagonist researching on that borderline, an event that forced a person to step into the wild and abandon his humanity, as unconscious as he might be.

It is full of irony. The voice of the book is from one who is totally soundless. His selective mutism encapsulates him into a world of imagination, both vivid and profound, which continues to the books on which he laid his emaciated fingers. Bits and bits of his life are described all throughout the pages, till that one fine day at age 18 where he rummaged through the insides of a baby in search for that lost soul he claimed losing during his formative years.

The nameless lady investigator, and her client York, a death row inmate. Their lives were sewn in the same pagttern, of different colors of thread. There were some events in their lives when they got intertwined, metaphorically, at least, until that stroke that one did to turn right. The other, otherwise.

The priest and the warden, the former being fallen and the latter falling. The priest is imprisoned by his unexpressed desires, and the warden suppressing his to normalise his daily living.

There are prisons inside prisons. There are walls inside free men. The book teaches us the value of a story each human person carries. Very few of us can dive into the heart of the prosecuted, immerse into their lives, and get to know them from within. It is harder especially if taken into account the incomprehensible act committed. The story echoes the Freudian psychology, how childhood is spent on the basis of sexuality, can shape their adulthood. Before everything else, they were juvenile themselves, with the same needs, the same wants, the same desires. Until, at a young age, they have reached their climax.

The heinous acts could be a statement of a desire to be seen. It is at the brink of desperation that drives the frustration within. We all have a story to tell. Some of us have options to express them; some may have not. To feel the warmth of existence is what the lady gives her clients, and unknowingly, even to those she does not intend to.

The book does not justify inhumane acts. Instead, it digs into the beginning. It unwraps the how's of all its forms, so a glimpse of a who may be understood. So a peak of a why may be reasoned out. So the gift of existence may be endorsed, even at the last moments of their lives. These walking deads die content, knowing that the true version of their story is construed and locked in the heart of the lady. Knowing that they mattered to someone is the closure they hopelessly aim.

Kafka on the Shore

I have been procrastinating the review of this book, Kafka on the Shore by Haruki Murakami, until now. It is one of those books that after reading it, it leaves a bitter taste in the mouth. I felt betrayed reading it.

The japanese literature has always been a concoction of reality and fantasy, weirdly and successfully webbed into a twisted plot. It is a dish of fable, metaphor, and nonfiction. At least this is what I feel everytime I come across anything japanese.

I found this book from a rummage sale at the church some years back. Being far away from the last pay and still halfway through the next, I dig in the pile of forgotten books in the store room to find one that would momentarily satisfy my hunger. I have read somewhere about Haruki Murakami before, a distant memory, of how talented this guy is who penetrated the western market. Minutes, if not hours, of going through my books one by one, I have decided wildly - I would give this book a shot.

Turning the pages did not seem like a task because this guy does have the flair for writing. This book was originally written in his mother tongue, and the translation may have an effect on the whole package. However, the sequencing, the movement from one thought to another, the story telling are most likely retained. Before I realized it, I was already immersed in it.

The book is about sexuality, coming of age, darkness within, and light without. Haruki Murakami tackled all sides of sexuality, and he elaborately weaved it into the plot. He presented another side of intimacy, one that feels raw and uncomfortable. The intricate, lights-off details that have not landed in a decent piece I have read before are found in this work. It also enveloped on itself the idea of our reality, until you encounter the talking cats. Then you'll bounce back to what it really is.

I read the book without much expectations. I went through the words and watch the characters take flight before my eyes. I did not understand some of it. I tried to reason it based on what is normal everyday, due to its attempt to make it as normal as possible. But I guess there are some things beyond the boundaries of logic, and therefore, accepting it as it is is the most convenient. I let the plot flow in me, taking it literally within the context of its environment. I stopped thinking about it.

The interesting part of the book is the established connection between Kafka, Mr Nakata, and Miss Saeki. Miss Saeki is the beginning of Kafka and the end of Mr Nakata, with the mutual effect on her. Miss Saeki was a walking zombie of her emotional past; her revival started and ended with Kafka. Her broken shell that she somehow managed to recollect shattered to its tiniest bit at the presence of Mr Nakata. It is now that I realize, while writing this blog, that the coming of age was presented in three different possibilities - Kafka being a teenager, Miss Saeki after a terrible heartache that stopped her youth, and Mr Nakato, who had never experienced any transition at all, turned into adulthood, at the age of 60. He took risks, followed his heart, made his one and only friend, and found himself. When he finally took hold of the physical world, he stopped understanding cat talks.

The book has a gloomy texture, coupled by the cover of that printed version copy of mine. It felt like walking through the pages of Sophie's World, and of reference books about musically influential people. It injected a drop of japanese mythology, widened its scale with a grab of the taboo, thus freeing the author of inhibitions. It is in this book that the not-normal camouflages into the norm, and anything otherwise is but an accessory. Now you know why I felt betrayed reading this book. I permitted its storyline to transform to any manipulative rhythm and perspective, but by doing so, it lost me. Or I lost it. This seductive strategy, this self-inflicted cat-and-mouse chase was what glued my hands to this book. The curiosity that welled up inside me made me turn pages through pages until I hit the full stop. If Mr Nakata did not lose his ability to talk to cats and joined the army of Johnny Walker, he could have understood me. And killed me. Then add my soul to a collection of cat souls to make a flute.

100

I am so proud of myself recently. With the hypes and distractions brought about by smart phones and an addiction to it,  I managed to finish, after a long time, a 387-paged, small font-sized book in one week. In one week! The days of hard-bound, 600-paged Harry Potter book nights are long over. I have graduated to low-key, out of bound books that I flip snail-like that could go on for years. So this one week saga is really an achievement for me.

The book "The One Hundred Year-Old Man Who Climbed Out Of The Window And Disappeared" was written by the Swede Jonas Jonasson. An emulation of its predecessor "Forrest Gump", the book intrepidly treaded on the most influential and controversial of historical figures and events of the 20th century. Only an imagination as daring as his could pull off such a gigantic plot.

The main guy, Allan Karlsson, is not your ordinary, typical neighbor. His life was never simple; it was short of splendid. During his salad days, he got himself a job in a nearby factory that nurtured his love of explosives. He met a bunch of small time gangsters and a lady who loves expletives on his 100th birthday. During the course of his life, he saved General Franco, worked for President Truman, dined with Stalin, snuck in and met Kim Il Sung and Kim Jong Il, saved Mao Tse-Tung's wife's life who in return Mao saved his. The story may seem trodding along the path of communism, but the book is noncommittal, being Karlsson himself is neutral. What magnetised him to them, or them to him, is his passion for explosives. This knowledge was in demand at that time, and the most essential in those days. It was the era of world wars.

I had been noticing this book in bookstores I frequented, but only until I vacationed in the Philippines did I decide to take out my card, swipe it through the machine, and bring home this baby. It was one of the most worthy impulsive spendings I made.

This book is commendable for its facts and fiction. It is playful and courageous. The lack of sense of danger of the character makes him a composed individual ready to take on challenges, thanks to the contradicting advices he gathered from his parents which he somehow sews into one proverb he lives by. This book shows the complexity of situations that gets straightened by the simplicity of an idealogy behind a solution. Karlsson had not finished school, and he furthered his knowledge by self-studies and his virtue of prudence. He proved these to be enough to get by.

I have read a few days ago another meaning of the word flow in psychological context - a matter or activity so absorbing that time passes without realizing it, resulting in the achievement of a goal that could then lead to happiness. Time did pass swiftly as I leafed through this book; I got "Flowed" and had achieved the goal of finishing it with no procrastination, which then led to my happiness. But at the same time, it led me to sadness. Departing from a lovable protagonist is a flaw in my character. Karlsson seemed real that I almost looked him up to find out if he really was in every turn of history. Yeah, I am naive.

It is refreshing to read something factually painful, with all its tendency to be harsh, to  come out light and joyful. I enjoyed every leaf of this beautiful book. Life is an adventure, the message that persistently oozes out. Karlsson's adventure never ceased even on his 100th birthday; he got married at 100 and a few months, got intimate for the first time, and was still a consultant up to the last page of this 387 beauty. Jonasson has the flair for mad twists. The story ended how it began.

And I am so proud of myself recently. For finishing this 387 book in a span of one week.

Gross National Happiness

Inspired by The Day of Happiness last 20 March 2014 and their suggestion to be happier, I have been jotting down on my happiness notebook my answers to the following:
a. Things I enjoyed
b. Things that went well
c. Things I am grateful for

At the end of the day, before going to bed, I traverse down memory lane and replay the happenings of the day. It has been more than a month since I participated in it.

According to their website, www.dayofhappiness.net, recent study shows that people who write down their answers tend to feel happier as days go by. Notice that the word I used is happier and not happy, because as human as it may seem, we always long for something more than what we already have. Intangible things like happiness is definitely one of them.

So I took up the challenge. I went to a novelty shop and bought the cutest notebook with different inside designs, its goal being to stand as my inspiration to pen down the events of my day (who does not get inspired writing on cute papers, anyway?). So the first day was translated to written words, and the second day, and the third, and the weeks that followed. When I went on a trip to Kuala Lumpur, despite my aching body and uncontrollable dozing eyes, I continued my quest to write happiness. The joy travelled from my brain, to my heart, down to my fingers, only to go back again through my fingers, then parks in my heart. There it found its sanctuary.

What is good about doing this, you may ask? Sure, sometimes I dreaded the work of penning them down because it steals a few minutes from my sleeping time. But once I hold that pen and open my notebook, my gray matter gears up and recollects those happy moments, those rainbow-coated moments, and my heart enlarges for joy it cannot contain. To relive is to live. To repeat is to feel like it is the first time. Like that time when I put my ipod on repeat almost the whole day for Crack the Shutters song by Snow Patrol. I let my body sway to it after the third or fourth time. It has conquered my soul.

Happiness is a choice. A choice to see it. Days after, I began to see the joyful, pure happiness that does happen everyday, in every minute of our lives. In every pulsating minute of my life. I started to recognise it, I took a mental picture of it,  and I stored it in the database of my heart of hearts. They get to come out at night before bedtime.

There was a suggested experiment in one of the books I was reading. It said to visualize a dollar with all its attributes (weight, color, the feel when holding it), and soon on the same day, the coin will keep popping up out of nowhere. It is literally everywhere we lay our eyes on. Has it always been there but had not been noticed, or they just start to appear because of the power of the mind? No one knows. Imagine doing this experiment, substituting the dollar with happiness. Happiness will keep appearing like that dollar(s) on that sidewalk you just took.

Once we start to take note, we will notice how blessed we are too. It has a domino effect, this journalling of happiness. It is causal to our current standing. And all it takes is a pen, a pretty notebook, and an open heart that sees.

"It is only through the heart that one can see rightly. What is essential is invisible to the eye." - The Little Prince.

Life's A Leap

I read from somewhere that human beings live two lives: the first is the current one, second is when you realize how short the current one is.

My father passed away three days before Christmas last year, twelve days after he was diagnosed. This painful and dark path in my life left a food for thought for me. Death does exist, and it can strike whenever it wants to, whether we are ready or not. I was not ready for it.

The change adversified my outlook in life, that relationships matter, that laughter and smile are our daily visas to a smoother ride. I realised that our struggles to achieving the highest peak of our lives lead to the same end, that death, once it embraced us, transforms our lives' achievements into a piece of paper. At the end of everything, we all get summed up to a piece of crucial document.

This thinking led me to the deactivation of my Facebook account. In the toughest and most difficult journey, the truest of friends rose to the top like a cream. I have hundreds of Facebook friends, I have tens and twentys of true ones. I do not need the others to decorate my life, a superficial acquaintanceship with millions of seconds spent on never ending browsing thru feeds is time thrown into the dust bin. I stopped the old life to give space for the new. I ceased the old life and refreshed it. I closed the browser and cleaned the cache.

Although it is a new philosophy to me, I am learning to drive my life governed by an emotional state. I would feel more to relate more. I would share more to receive more. I would smile more to feel happiness more. Life is not a composition of the grandeurs, but a puzzle of simplicity and passion that makes up a bigger picture. We need to find the part that clicks to make it work. A simple hello is the missing puzzle to the busyness of daily living. I am decided to finish this one and put all the pieces together.

According to the Taoist philosophy, the world is a reflection of us. It responds to how we perceive it. We mold it according to our thinking. I believe that the world is a happy place where love thrives. Suffering and pain are the spices that make life worthwhile, and relationships are the sprinkles that add flavour to it. We live two lives - the first is the current one, and second is when we realise how short the current one is. I know which phase of my life I am now, and although a novice, I have an idea or two how to walk through it. Baby steps are a leap of faith. That leap of faith is the beginning of a fuller life.